When he saw her kiss with another
by TMI Fairy
Summary: A Fem!Bilbo/Thorin fic. Bog standard, i.e. Thorin treats Bilba like shit and she hightails it to the Shire immediately after BoftA. A remorseful Thorin later follows her to Hobbiton to find ...


It was a long and painful journey. Bilba Baggins of the Shire suffered sweet torture upon the Quest of Thorin's Company. Thorin verbally abused her every day, doubly so on Holy Days, deriding her usefulness both on account of her race and sex. In spite of being called ugly, stupid, short, fat, and not hairy enough, the very fact that she could be in HIS presence was enough for the love struck gentle hobbit lass. She was so crazily in love with Thorin that it was beyond belief. This author cannot believe it himself. Yet it was love true and pure, as Arda is full of mystery and wondrous events. Bilba hang upon Thorin's every angry word, every contemptuous glare, every sneer of those lips which she would love to feel crushing her own full, crimson lips. And so it went, through Bree, Rivendell, Goblintown, Hall of Beorn, up to the Halls of the Elvenking.

One day, after checking upon the state of her King and Love of Her Life and listening with tears of joy in her amber coloured eyes when he deigned to look down and address her and entrust her with a task – "you stupid worthless fishwife of a useless twat. Go and arrange my freedom from this cell!" - Bilba had snatched some ham and kielbasa and moose jerky from the kitchen and found an unused room deep in the bowels of the Halls of the absolutely not at all handsome Elvenking. Too tall and too skinny for her liking. And not hairy. Definitely Her Fair Prince had to be Hairy. To eat her meal Bilba squatted on her heels like a _gopnik_ – albeit unaware of parroting the behaviour of underprivileged orc youth – when the door burst ajar. The hobbit lass barely had the time to avoid discovery by slipping on the One Ring.

The heiress of Bag End observed about half a dozen ellith enter the room. The female elves set up some chairs and a table. During the arrangements a few more elves, all of the female persuasion, trickled in, bringing up their total number to about a dozen. After lighting one tallow candle on the table, the ellith gathered round, grasped their hands in a circle and belted out a spirited prayer. After taking their seats around the table, one of them began to speak.

"My name is Cloriel and I have not been abused today. I open a meeting of ABBA. Who would like to talk first? Anyone to share her experience, strength and hope?"

The arm of a red haired elleth with big ears shot up faster than the elfhood of an aroused male of the Noldor kindred.

The next two hours – with a short break in the middle - spent on listening to she-elves share about abusive relationships changed Bilba's life.

Bilba took her leave of the dwarves immediately after the battle, ignoring the summons to meet the heavily yet not mortally wounded Thorin. Well, immediately after witnessing a ground shattering and ear searing row between a certain dwarf archer and a certain elven archer.

Two years later:

After retaking The Mountain Thorin put away any thoughts of the Daughter of Yavanna. He threw himself at the daunting task of rebuilding the realm that was his Mahal ordained inheritance. Shovelling dragon shit was good therapy for Compulsive Hoarding Disorder too. However, the separation from the Gentle Child of the West gnawed at his heart. He saw her in every curve of a shapely bosom, in every pert behind or well turned ankle. He heard her gay laughter in every screech of March-time cat courtship or the neigh of a merry pony. He saw her amber eyes in every amber trinket he dug out of the treasure. He saw her hair, the colour of over-ripe wheat, in anything vaguely flavescent like. Having one his nephews around - who moped and constantly sighed heavily - did not help at all.

The Son of Durin's resolve finally broke down in the spring of 2943. He passed the Kingship of the Longbeards to Dain Ironfoot and the Crown of Erebor to his nephew. Thorin then set out alone, only with his trusty pony Peppermint, forbidding on pain of death anyone to follow. His Quest this time was to find his One, the missing half of his soul. His only hope was to find her and make her his. If he failed in making her share the rest of her life with him this would break his heart and make him fade and die.

Two months later:

Thorin stood, as if turned to stone, at the sight of Bilba on the bench next to the door of Bag End. Her bodice was unlaced and she was breast feeding a child with reddish fuzz on its head. The hobbit lass, upon noticing the steely gaze of those blue eyes over the aquiline nose smiled with a smile which did not extend to her eyes.. She called towards the window. After a little while a short, big eared elleth came through the round green door. Upon noticing Thorin she gave him a grin. An Evil! grin. She sat next to Bilba and gave her a sloppy kiss with lots of tongue. The hobbit lass leaned into the elf, her tongue entwined with that the ex-denizen of Mirkwood - the kissing made her toes curl and they now resembled ten little snails. By then Thorin's mind had long fled from any shred of reason, his mind sloshing with the image of two females – from two races – kissing, and with fantasies of joining them for a tri-racial threesome. Bilba extended her free arm towards the dwarf and curled her fingers into a fist - with the exception of her dainty and slender middle finger which she extended towards the azure sky ...

"She said "nay"!"

Thorin's heart gave out and he tumbled to the dirt freshly raked by the young Hamfast Gamgee ... as he thrashed about in convulsions of his last moments the two fair maidens interrupted their tonsil hokey to high-five one another and joyously and loudly ejaculated R.E.S.P.E.C.T!

The baby cooed and gurgled happily and clapped clumsily - it was happy that mommies were happy!

AN:

ABBA - ABused Babes Anonymous

Parentage of baby – somehow Bilba and Tauriel did it - it's a FEMPREG story – roll with with it.

Gopnik – the orc equivalent to the Outraged Movement, best known for the Occupy Gundabad campaign. The "occupy" portion of the protest left them with the habit of squatting on flat heels. Those who squat on their toes are immediately identified as spies. While squatting the gopniks talk shit and drink alcohol made from potatoes.


End file.
